Page:Romance of the Rose (Ellis), volume 1.pdf/262

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And if so be that thou forsake

My counsels never, they shall make

Thee wise and happy, and no man

Shall higher be or richer than

Thy very self, and thou shalt ne’er

Eat out thine heart in dark despair

Or wasting wrath, though Fortune’s stroke

Thy friends, estate, and body broke;

But having patience, thou in me,

Shalt find a friend to comfort thee.

Wherefore discoverest thou such dole?

Tears from between thine eyelids roll,

As drops from some alembic stood

Above a furnace. In the flood

Thou mightst be washed out like a rag,

None but a fool, or merry wag,

Would call so poor a stick a man,

For never creature looked so wan

And wretched as dost thou. The devil,

True spring and source of all things evil,

Within thy weakling heart hath set

This love, and hence thy cheeks are wet

With waterfalls; thou shouldst disdain

To show thee so far weak and vain.

This tyrant God whose breath doth fan

The fire of love within the pan

Of thy frail brain it is, alone,

Who causeth thee to fret and moan.

Thy noble liege! thy reverenced friend!

Through whom thy soul thou dost expend

In tears—he sells his friendship dear,

As doth to my poor wit appear.